Monroe's Story (Addendum to If You Want to Destroy My Sweater)
by DeWinter79
Summary: *SPOILER ALERT* This is an addendum to my third story in the Sweater Series: "If You Want to Destroy My Sweater" - Read *after* you've read the mentioned chapters for it flow correctly. These chapters are from Monroe's POV. (Monroe x OC)
1. After the Red Ropes Fell

A/N: This is an addendum to Chapter 61 of my third story in the Sweaters Series: _**If You Want to Destroy My Sweater.**_

For it to make sense, don't read this until **after** you've read Chapter 61! Spoilers will occur otherwise!

This is a third-person narrative, which is different from my usual first-person POV. The problem with first-person is that it doesn't give the readers the opportunity to see into the minds of the other characters. While I enjoy writing from Renée's POV, it lacks depth sometimes, so I've come up with this as a solution. If it's received well, perhaps I may write more separate chapters like this in the future. Hopefully the readers like it. Guess we'll see!

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**After the Red Ropes Fell: Monroe's Story**  
**(Addendum to Chapter 61 of _If You want to Destroy My Sweater)_**

As Renée closed the bedroom door behind her, Monroe dug his hands into his hair, tugging roughly. How could he have been this stupid? Red rope. Red _fucking_ rope! It was too overpowering. He'd hurt her really bad. And even though he'd bitten way too deeply, she'd held it all in. Why couldn't she just be open with him and tell him she was in pain? She wanted to make sure _he _was okay, that's why. She was so bent on everyone else's needs, she'd hold in her own no matter how bad it was.

He'd give anything if she'd just let him take care of her the way a mate was supposed to take care of his wounded. He owed her that much to make up for this kinda terrible mistake. But she was scared of him doing that; not that she'd really admit it, but the fear that had come off of her the last time was so intense, almost nauseating in fact, and that was with her trying to relax. Man… If only she'd tell him the truth and not hold it in. At least her songs gave him some insight... Well, the rare times when he actually knew the song. There were so many hip-hoppy, newish, rubbish songs she listened to. She knew them all and that still bewildered him. But the song she was humming in the shower, he knew that one well. 'Love Hurts.' He scoffed aloud. Well that was a slap in the face. But he deserved much more than just a slap tonight. He hated himself for letting the wolf take that much control. It was like he wasn't even there.

That was the price he paid for Wieder. That murky, blackout feeling when the true nature hits after it's been kept dormant for a while. It had only happened to him a handful of times, but each one was like he was losing himself. He recalled being out in the woods with Angelina; after taking her down, the rest was a blur in his mind. He vaguely remembered the rabbit and the sex. Okay, he remembered the sex pretty well, but the hunt and the rabbit... No, it was like he wasn't really there anymore. The wolf was there.

He thought back to Renée. Tonight was supposed to go so differently. Everything else was perfect. She had lain there, stretched out across his bed the way he'd imagined it so many times in his head; tied down, submissive, and all his to do whatever he pleased. Hell, he'd gotten hard just smelling her arousal when he'd brought the rope out to show her. She wanted it, and that she was even _a little_ into his kinky side, well that made him hard now just thinking about it again.

But no, red was wrong. He thought he could control it, thought that with _her_ it would be different. After the woods in Kentucky, he felt he had it under control. But the red was right in front of him, burning into him like a thousand flames, pushing the wolf inside him to take over. Sometimes his instincts were just too intense. There wasn't enough Pilates, or drugs, or routines to take it all away. Not that he really wanted to usually. But tonight... tonight he wanted to control it. Show Renée that all the hard work and the promises about getting back on track had really paid off. Fuck, if that plan hadn't been blown out of the water. And now the things he wanted to try the most, the things that they had slowly been building toward, well those were blown up, too. Monroe shook his head. He'd be lucky if they weren't back to standard missionary with how tonight had turned out. That was_ if_ she'd want to have sex anytime soon after all this. He rolled his eyes at his stupidity.

Monroe paced the bedroom floor. He stopped and looked at the door. Maybe if he just went downstairs, took Renée in his arms, and apologized profusely a few times more, then maybe she'd try this again sometime. White rope, blue rope, hell any other color and it would've been fine. Why did he push for red? Fuck...

Monroe listened downstairs. She was watching TV. He smelled wine. Of course she needed a drink after that. Hell, he needed a few bottles himself. Better just let her have some alone time. Monroe decided she was doing better with all this than he was making it out to be. She didn't run out of the house, screaming. Hell, it wouldn't have been the first time someone did that. But no, he wasn't like that anymore. Even with his kink, he'd still reformed himself _that much_, at least. Blutbaden females could take what he had to offer full force, but humans were different. He'd learned that the hard way… Well, rather they'd learned the hard way. But it wasn't impossible to bed a human. It took a few tries to get it right, but he'd figured it out. Thank goodness he had it down pat by the time he'd met Renée. But then again, Renée wasn't entirely human and she had Grimm blood.

Although he didn't know much about Grimms, except for the horror stories growing up, he knew they were strong. Warriors. Coupled with her healing Waldgeist abilities, Renée was one tough chick. Probably tougher than she even knew. But with him she held back. He liked that. She remained submissive even though if she really wanted to, she could probably kick his ass. That baseball bat proved she had the strength to do it. Her swing sure had packed one hell of a punch. He rubbed his lower back. Yeah, if she wanted to, she could hurt him. Monroe chuckled. She sure knew how to kick him where it hurt. Ironically, Nick's stupid book about his kind actually came in handy tonight. Monroe hadn't been lying to her. He had barely stopped, but if she hadn't kicked him, then it was quite possible he wouldn't have. He shuddered at the realization.

Going with the red was fucking ballsy, even for him. But if he had hurt her… Dammit! He couldn't live with himself if he caused her any more harm. Maybe Renée was right, maybe he needed to curb back the biting. God, but her blood did something to him. It wasn't quite human, but nothing like any Wesen he remembered from before either. It was unique and it was damn good. Maybe it was the combination of both sides, or maybe Grimm blood just tasted sweeter, given that they were natural enemies. He'd always had a penchant for Bauerschwein back in the day. They tasted pretty good, too. Either way, it was hard not to want to sample another taste, Wieder or not. That scared him a little.

He shook his head again as he sat down on the bed. Those thoughts were definitely not anything he needed to have. Man, he'd worked too hard to get to this point. And if anything, he didn't need to do something further that might hurt her. He loved her too much for that. Renée meant everything to him. She meant more than anyone had ever made him feel. Sure he cared, sometimes too much, for the ones that didn't deserve it, but with her he felt connected, body, mind, soul, and everything else that didn't have a name yet.

Monroe thought about all the times he could've lost her. The fucking Lowen, those damn Reapers, that bitch Waschbar… God there were too many to even keep track of. But when she was tied up in that mining tunnel, she was scared, like really scared. He'd never smelled fear and despair like that on her before, and he was pissed. It was all he could do not to kill that cunt of a Daemonfeuer the moment she showed herself. Damn, and to think he'd ogled her so many times while she danced half-naked on stage for him. There were plenty of entries in his journal about the things he had wanted to do to her. She had a nice, little ass, and damn, the way she moved had him ready to pounce. But when she'd hurt his mate, all those thoughts flew out the proverbial window. He was ready to rip her to shreds. Had it not been for Juliette sitting there as a witness, he would have. He'd pressed on everything he'd practiced to hold it in. He couldn't risk Nick's girlfriend seeing something like that. Oh man, she would've been scarred for life. Not that the whole kidnapping thing didn't do something to her already. Good thing that Daemonfeuer had killed herself. At least Karma had its perks.

Monroe lay down on the bed and drew out a heavy sigh. He thought about the good parts of the night. The way Renée had looked at him when he'd straddled her. The flush of her cheeks, the way she arched her back when he'd tease her. And man, she gave in to the commands real quick. She was still a bit brash, but she could be taught to overcome that. He could teach her to give in a little more. She might even like it once he'd done it a few times. But damn, she was so wet tonight. He rubbed his cock through his jeans just thinking about how good she had looked after he'd torn off her clothes. God, that part was so awesome. He'd wanted to rip her clothes to shreds for such a long time. He figured getting a woman to sacrifice clothing was a next-to-none request, but it had only taken a small amount of coaxing to get her to comply. Too easy. She was so into it… before the biting, that is. Monroe growled a bit, tossing the bad thoughts of the night aside. No, she was into it. She was dripping wet, begging for him. A little bit longer and he would've had her doing anything he'd asked.

His cock stiffened even more and he unzipped his jeans as he stroked himself. Monroe played out the rest of the night in his mind as he worked his cock in his hands. Minus the biting, it would've been so good. God, he loved how responsive she was. He could just barely touch her and she was like putty in his hands. He went back to the thoughts of being inside her, deep thrusts and strokes of his cock surrounded by the heat of her pulsing pussy. Monroe was about to cum, so he slowed down again. He thought about the way her lips tasted as the smell of her vanilla swirled up his nostrils, mixed in with her lust. He worked his cock a bit faster as he inhaled. The scent of her was still in the bedroom just like she was right here with him.

He slowed once more. Monroe wanted to cum, but not yet. It was all about control. He thought about Renée's words. She wasn't too talkative, but when she'd say something it was always just the right thing. And the way she'd moan as she bit her lip. Man, that bottom lip of hers was such a dead giveaway. Even if the scent of her arousal hadn't hit him, that lip bite told him everything. But the thing that drove him barmy and wild up to the brink was when she would say that one word: Yours. God, that swelled him up to full Alpha right there. When she had said it the first time in the woods while they were in Kentucky, damn it was all he could do to hold back. She didn't know how difficult it had been for him to control himself as she kept saying everything he had wanted to hear. Monroe's cock bobbed in his hands as he stroked quickly. And when she had called him Mr. Wolf, fuck if he didn't wanna rip her clothes off right in her mother's kitchen. Oh, his inner wolf loved that just a bit too much. It was begging to take over, to take that sweet, little thing and show her what a wolf really was. He had let it come out in the woods, but he still had held a tight rein on the beast. That night was such a pinnacle moment for him. Monroe closed his eyes again. When he had his Little Red held tight against that tree, wearing that red thong he'd asked her to buy, and then some, ('cause she was definitely a pleaser) he knew he had her. That was the beginning, when fantasies were starting to manifest themselves. Superfluous ideas that he never thought possible suddenly seemed like a reality.

Monroe allowed himself to smile. It was his first real smile tonight since the whole biting thing happened. He concentrated on that wondrous word dropping off Renée's luscious lips. Yours. She was his, all his. He came fast and hard as the memory of her voice echoed in his brain. He jerked back into the bed, muscles contracting, heartbeat jolting up in his chest. He loved her. Man, did he ever.

Monroe relaxed a bit more, a bigger smile on his lips as he breathed out a few times. That woman did things to him. And smokin' hot didn't even begin to describe how sexy she really was. Man, the things that body of hers did to him just weren't right. No one oughta be able to drive someone that completely crazy. Hell, she was sitting downstairs, and he was going bananas up in his bedroom from just the memories. She was like a walking, talking aphrodisiac. But that only proved he had control. To keep going out with her all those times in the beginning and _not_ try anything… Well, even the Dalai Lama would've had trouble holding back with a dish like Renée. But when she and Monroe got together, man, oh, man it was something out of this world. They were an exceptional match. Mating her was so right. He knew she was the one. Damn, but his mark would never stay long enough to show she was his. Monroe grunted at the thought. He didn't want to bite her like that again, not that she'd probably let him after tonight. Fuck... He hadn't thought about that either. He closed his eyes briefly. He wanted to do that right, too.

There weren't many traditions he could still hold on to after becoming Wieder, but this one... This one was important. Mating was significant to every Blutbad. It wasn't done lightly, and you needed to be sure if you were gonna take the plunge, so to speak. But with Renée he knew. Every part of him wanted to claim her, and he'd been feeling that long before he'd ever even kissed her, crazy, but true. And after all the waiting, he'd still managed to botch it up. That night in the rain outside her house, he should've just gone with his gut and taken her out to the woods. Last full moon of the season. Done it right... But no. He still hadn't done the other part yet. The big part.

Monroe ran a hand through his hair. Renée deserved something more than just the words, 'I love you.' He wasn't used to being a romantic guy, so all these gestures were kinda foreign. Sure he pulled them off well. Just like with anything else, he'd studied the modus operandi of romance. He knew enough from books and movies how to do it, but he was a bit awkward in his approach. Angelina didn't need romance. A few bottles of whiskey and she was ready for anything. But she was also good at ripping his heart out and stomping it on the ground. He growled again. Not a good example. No, Renée was different. She was a wine and roses kinda woman. So far he'd hit all the points. Not that he minded so much, but she sure had that fairy tale, happy ending thing stuck in her head. But could he really play that role? Be the hero? Working with Nick and fielding that whole do-gooder approach was hard enough, but to be someone's dashing, handsome prince? Ha! Yeah, that just wasn't his bailiwick.

Monroe had been doing a little reading on Renée's astrology mumbo jumbo since they'd come back from Kentucky. He didn't believe in it for a minute, but even he had to admit that Leos were an interesting species. Most of the things listed about their personality fit his Renée to a T. Of all the things he'd read, romance was prominently up there as a big, number one, crucial, crux thing for female Leos. They needed the romantic, sweep them off their feet, ride off into the sunset shindig and they needed it in a grandiose, Scarlett O'Hara kinda way. (No wonder she had badgered him to watch that movie. He was getting the picture now.) So, even though Monroe had planned on just telling her how he felt when they came home to Portland, he knew that if he just blurted it out, she'd expect something more. He could do it up big. Take her out, put on a show, if that's what she needed. So far he'd tried to set up the perfect scenarios, but damn if something hadn't happened each time. He was getting frustrated with all these failed attempted for the perfect evening. He huffed out a sigh. But he had more plans in store for her. They couldn't all get messed up, right? No one was that unlucky. Once he said those words, then everything else would come together. He wanted to give her what she deserved. She deserved for it to be perfect. Something she could tell her friends about, and they'd be all green with envy. Leos seemed to like that, too. He'd make it perfect, just for her. Leo was a needy sign, but admittedly the rewards were kinda awesome.

Renée had shown him time and time again how loyal she was. She'd risked her own life for his. Imagine, a Grimm risking their life for a Wesen. But that was her way. Her heart was as big as her smile. She'd give him the moon and the stars if he asked. He knew that it sounded kinda sappy, but it was true. He'd never been with a woman that was so generous and kindhearted. Blutbaden women were loyal, but they were ruthless about it. Renée wasn't like that. Now if he could just get her to trust him. Monroe grumbled as he thought about all the secrets she was still keeping from him. He wasn't dumb. He knew she was keeping things, big things. To think it took her three weeks just to share that she knew what he was. Man, that night had been a killer. Well, almost literally. But even under duress, she was able to calm him down. Those few words went far. Man, but was it ever a shock. But she trusted him that night enough to open up. That whole week afterward she shared a ton of things. She'd share the rest, he was certain. That was something he was gonna have to work on with her. But tonight had really fucked that up, too. 'You know, it's okay to trust the Blutbad who almost murdered you in his bed.' Yeah, that was gonna go over well. Monroe punched his mattress a time or two as he growled.

While he had been looking up Leos, he had glanced over the traits of Scorpio, too. Just for perspective was all. Things like dark sexual tendencies, heavy brooding, jealously, and violent tempers weren't too far off base. But if she knew all that, then maybe she knew he liked things a little different in the bedroom. Maybe that's why she acted the way she did with him; letting him hold her down, take control. But if he was going to keep it up, he'd have to put a lock-down on the other instincts.

The wolf wanted so much more. He hated feeling there was a duality to his nature, but to him there really was. He had worked on his id to be a clockmaker and a man, but there was that latent Blutbaden nature coursing though him all the time, wanting him to give in to who he really was. The routines kept him in check, and for a few years he hadn't had any urges. Things had been solid before he'd met Nick. Not that he wanted to blame the dude, but that was the start of the decline. Sleep schedules shifted, Pilates schedules had been interrupted, and even breakfast time had changed quite a bit since the Grimm had come into his life. Then adding Renée to his schedule had perpetuated the mess his once solid routine had become. The only downfall to his perfectly-timed routine was that it was perfectly-timed for a party of one. He wasn't a party of one anymore. With Nick and Renée he'd become a slightly more macabre version of _Three's Company_. But now everything was amiss and the urges were surfacing again. Lately, he wanted to answer that Blutbaden call, and had done so a few times too many. But if he let it take over, there would be no turning back, and consequently there would be no way he would be able to continue being with Renée. No, his love was more important than that. So, he'd give up the biting, the nicknames, and even the woge for a while if that's what it took to maintain control. He'd give it all up to keep her safe. Anything to prevent ever hurting her again.

Love was what he wanted, and he wanted her. When he first saw her he knew. He'd never tell her that. Love at first sight? Come on! If he thought that other thing was sappy, hell, this would make him lose his Alpha card for sure. But it was true. He had told her the truth when he'd left her hotel room that first night. He sat in his VW, fighting with himself to just go back in, pound on the door, take her in his arms, and … Well, he probably would have scared the shit out of her. But the way it had worked out had been better. Too bad he had to wait all those months for her to come back to him.

Monroe thought about Renée's universe theories. He liked that about her. He had his own theories about Karma and the universe, but she really believed it a hundred percent. She'd said that cuckoo of hers was the universe pushing them back together. Universe or not, it sure was a wonderful time piece, in more ways than one. It had reunited them, sure, but it was so much more than that. Monroe was starting to give up on finding someone when she happened to step onto his porch that day. He hadn't told her that either. Honestly he wasn't sure how she'd take it. But he was grateful everyday that she had chosen him from the sparse listings of clock repair guys in Portland. He oughta send the _Portland Yellow Pages_ a thank you card sometime. Who knew that ad would ever be worth so much?

He went to the bathroom, cleaned himself and zipped up. There was a drop of blood on the sink. Renée's blood. He didn't have to question it. The smell alone told him immediately. He reached for a tissue, wiping it away as he sighed. Throwing the tissue away, he washed his hands and stared at his reflection.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Monroe asked himself candidly, as if he was expecting a response.

He straightened his back and squared himself as he shook his head. Yeah, maybe that damn astrology book was correct. He was definitely brooding. His forehead was jutted out, and the deep creases were prominently staring back at him, showing his age. He waved it off, turning abruptly and walked back into the bedroom.

Plopping down on the bed, Monroe rolled over and pulled his journal from his nightstand drawer. He'd been thinking up here in his bedroom way too long. He needed to write some of this stuff down. When Reynaldo had suggested he keep a journal all those years ago, he'd laughed at him. Ten years and sixty-two journals later, he was a little grateful for the idea. Writing had become an important, daily outlet to his transformation. Some entries were a few meager sentences, while others took up twenty pages or more. He'd recently read over his earlier journals from when he first started his Wieder path. All the obstacles that had blindsided him and the mistakes he'd made so early on were all there in black and white. No, the wolf may want to come back, but Monroe knew he needed to keep doing what he thought was right. All these recent slip ups didn't mean he had failed, it just meant he had to try harder.

He held the journal in his hands, thumbing through a few pages until he reached the next blank sheet. Tonight he'd write about living out some of his fantasies with Renée that he'd only been able to write about in the few months prior. Damn, he was getting hard again just from the mere thought. He scowled. That wasn't him this time. That was most definitely the wolf. After seeing the blood in the bathroom, he wasn't interested, but the wolf had more of a proclivity for that sort of thing.

He glanced down at his zipper. "You've had enough," he said in a low tone. The words were more for the wolf than for his cock, but one of them was listening because things settled down below and he let out a breath.

Monroe went back to his journal. He'd chronicle this just like he had everything else with her. First came the good parts. The good parts were always easy to write about. Next were the obstacles. Well, tonight the pages would be full of those. Lastly, he'd write about the hard parts. All the fears, anxieties, worries, goals, and all the crap he hated about his true nature would tie everything up. That was where it got too difficult to continue sometimes. No, tonight he'd suck it up and write it all out. This was just another thing he'd learn from later on. In a few years he'd read back on this night and laugh that he was ever this stupid. Yeah, that was how he was gonna think about it tonight.

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A/N: Whew okay! So we stepped into Monroe's mind a bit here. It gives some perspective and some hints about future chapters. Like it, hate it? Comment and let me know. This is my first attempt at writing third-person, so I'm kinda feeling iffy about this approach.

As always thank you for reading! (:


	2. After the Corruption Sang its Song

**After the Corruption Sang its Song: Monroe's Story**  
**(Addendum to Chapters 93 & 94 of _If You want to Destroy My Sweater)_**

Monroe watched as Renée's body relaxed and her breaths slowed. Her cheeks flushed from moments before, still bearing the one small tear that had trickled from her eye. Her long reddish-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, slightly damp at the temples. He studied her angelic face—so perfect, so beautiful. He continued to stare for a while until he was sure she was asleep. Sighing heavily, he edged off the bed, picking up a throw blanket off the ottoman. He draped it over her, kissing her forehead gently. She stirred only slightly, but that woman was out like a light.

Shaking his head, he threw on his boxers and t-shirt and left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. What the hell kinda sex was that? Resting his hands on his hips, he let out a breath. Renée had never shown that much dominance... well, ever. And that music of hers. Man, what was she trying to do to him in there? It was all he could do not to... He growled at the thought.

Walking toward the couch, he slumped down. He had to scare her tonight. She couldn't tempt him like that. Oh, man, but he wanted her to. After the ride to Multnomah Falls, Renée seemed skeptical once she'd found out his 'first time' with the ropes wasn't at all his first. Nowhere near close, actually. He still wasn't all too sure how she'd figured it out. Maybe some kinda Grimm sixth sense? Whatever the reason, she knew he was lying about that and the blindfold. Any chance of her partaking in his 'interests' seemed next to none. But then tonight she was coaxing him to command her, dominate her, and... Another growl escaped him as he grimaced. And do anything he wanted.

Oh, damn... He wanted nothing more than to take her up on her offer. She was such a pleaser, but that went over the edge of pleasing. Between the song beating out those tempting words in his ear and her words, offering him the opportunity to let go, it was maddening. Reining in the beast after all that was damn near an impossible feat. He couldn't risk hurting her. His worst fear was that he'd lose control and he'd hurt his Renée… again.

So, he had done the only thing he could; he gave her a preview in words of what the wolf wanted. Maybe he'd been a bit colorful in the description, but it wasn't too far off. Okay, so the claw against her ass was a little over the top, but he had to make his point. It was safe to say she'd never had anything pressed against there before. His mind wandered to thoughts of being the first... The wolf liked the idea of popping that cherry... and so did he.

Shaking those thoughts aside, he sighed. What if she had called his bluff tonight after all that? The wolf inside had begged greedily for her to say the word. 'Say yes,' it had chanted over and over in his brain. If she had, then it would've been all over. The wolf would've emerged, and it had only one thought in mind... destruction. Destroy her and take everything.

But Renée's silence had the inner wolf howling internally in defeat as Monroe regained his control. The gamble was dangerous, but it was necessary. Monroe wanted to coddle her, scoop her up in his arms, even apologize after doing it, but that would've undone the threat. Renée needed to know he meant every word. She couldn't ask that of him again. The fear had to stick with her as a constant reminder that the wolf would oblige if she gave him that kind of blatant opportunity again.

But even in defeat, the wolf demanded something in return. The scent of Renée's fear had engulfed Monroe's senses. Without hesitation, he'd hoisted her up and drove into her full force. That's right, he allowed his instincts that much of a reward. She tried to fight her pleasure, but he knew she'd succumb. While he may not have looked as studly as her ex, he knew his way around the bedroom, and he was pretty sure she never got sex like that with that asshole, either. A satisfied smile spread across Monroe's face. No, he was certain he topped the list when it came to pleasing her in the bedroom. So even though she was pissed, she came good and hard anyway.

Just when he thought he'd overdone it, she'd surprised him and flipped him on his back. Man, she was strong. After her breakdown, he hadn't expected that at all. But she was tenacious, reckless, and something else Monroe still had yet to define. But she'd surprised him tonight, in more ways than one.

Monroe ran his fingers along the nail marks Renée had left on his arm and chuckled softly. Yeah, she was a warrior, all right. But the tear she'd shed afterward let him know she was none too happy about what he'd done. She already thought he was a monster. He'd learned that pretty quickly after scanning through her playlist last week. Song after song of wolves and sadistic lyrics filled her MP3 player. Some of it got to him pretty bad. Man, but a few of them had him wondering if she kinda liked it. Although he was sure she wouldn't admit it, he was intrigued to know. The song she'd played tonight hadn't been on the playlist. While he hadn't listened to every single song, he'd read through most of the titles, and he didn't recall anything that sounded like what he'd heard tonight. That song was exactly the kind of thing he didn't need to be hearing at all right now.

Tilting his head back, he sighed. He felt like a cad. This was why relationships baffled him. Well, one of many. But this… Monroe had worked hard to curb the beast within, but Renée had a way of setting it off like a spring. Angelina was good at it, too… Damn. No, he wasn't going to compare the two women again. Renée was nothing like Angelina. Maybe it was just women in general.

He thought back to working in the trailer a few hours earlier. What had gotten into her? Was she reading more Blutbad mating history in those books? Hell, both Grimms were in a strange, horny mood. Nick was giving off enough pheromones to stink up the place worse than his Lysol. Then when Renée started getting all aromatic, well, it was, like, sexual overload to the extreme. Maybe Nick's scent had unconsciously brought on hers? Maybe Grimm history was erotic to her? Monroe scratched his head. Either way, Renée was sure different tonight. They both were.

Locating the remote, he flipped on the TV. He'd take a shower in the morning. No use in waking Renée up. Let her sleep. Her DVR had four _Jeopardy_ episodes, a few old movies, and a couple of shows from the cooking channel. Monroe chuckled lightly. Was she trying to learn a few things? The descriptions were of easy meals for those not so great in the kitchen. He looked toward her bedroom. Such a pleaser.

After scanning the channels, he settled on _Key Largo_ on Turner Classic Movies. They were playing Bogart titles all week long. Monroe settled into the story, but the low sounds of Renée crying out got his attention. The sounds became louder, more demanding as he shot up from the couch and went into the bedroom.

"Monroe… Oh, Monroe." Renée was still asleep, but she was obviously dreaming something intense. Her face scrunched as she turned over, clutching her pillow.

Monroe rushed over to the bed while Renée continued calling his name. "Renée? Honey, wake up," he coaxed, but she was deep asleep. What kind of nightmares was she having? Was it because of tonight? He scowled internally at being the cause of it.

"Oh…" she murmured, her fingers digging into the pillow. God, she must have been in torment.

"Renée!" He tried again, reaching for her shoulder with a firm shake. This time she awoke, disoriented. "Renée, you were having a nightmare maybe, I think?" he said, looking down at her shaking form.

Her breaths fluttered out of her rapidly, and she blinked at him in surprise.

"You okay?" he continued.

"Yeah, just a dream," she said breathlessly, gasping a little as she held her chest. She was being cautious with her words, he could tell. It must have been horrible, and he must have been… Oh, he didn't want to even think about it.

"You were crying out. What was going on in that head of yours?" He needed her to tell him, so he didn't fear the worst. Running his hand across her forehead, caked in sweat he commented, "Dude, you're all, umm… dewy... again."

"Sorry. It was just… really vivid." Her voice was distant as she looked under the blanket. "Did I pass out after we…?"

"Yeah, and rather fast, too." Monroe chuckled in spite of himself. She was avoiding his question and guarding herself. "I just let you sleep while I watched some TV." The scent of Renée's arousal hit him as she tugged at the blanket again. Why was she aroused? "Okay, so maybe that wasn't a nightmare you were having after all." The scent had him aroused, too. He grinned at the thought of taking her again. "You wanna share? Or was it some hunky movie star you were dreaming about?"

"No, it wasn't a movie star," she replied while sitting up before he could slip a hand down between her legs. "I'm going to take a shower," she added.

Monroe watched her intently. The aroma was strong now that the blanket was off. "So, not gonna share, huh?" he asked as he leaned back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head to keep from pulling her back down. Between the smell of her and the slope of her bare back, it was difficult to tamper down the urge.

Renée winked at him from over her shoulder as he suppressed a growl. Her green eyes almost dancing mischievously. "You were in it."

He was in it? Well, that would explain her calling out his name. And given her coyness, it was in a good way. At least she didn't seem too traumatized, thank goodness. Now he was just interested in knowing more. Ideas brimmed to the surface of what she might have been dreaming. She stood as he focused on her ass. "I'll be back shortly," she said. Her long hair flowed down her back as she walked toward the bathroom as his eyes followed. That virgin ass… He shook the thoughts out.

"Want me to join you?" He still needed a shower, and this way he could enjoy himself once more. Sex in the shower was his favorite. He could take her from behind, and if something slipped, well…

"Nah, I can manage." She cast off the reply as she started humming.

What was that song? Monroe rattled his brain, but he wasn't sure. Damn, those songs of hers. She needed a thought bubble over her head with the song and artist. Better yet, she needed to tell him what she was thinking. He groaned as she closed the door behind her, and he reached for his rock-hard cock. The wolf said to just follow her in and take what he wanted. Ten years ago it wouldn't have been a debate. He always took what he wanted. Monroe shook his head as he stroked himself through his boxers. No, he'd pushed too much already tonight. Forcing himself on her wouldn't be smart, or safe.

Her humming continued once the shower came on. He imagined her wet body as the vanilla reached his nose. He'd control himself. He was stronger than this. If she wanted him, she would've had him join her.

Monroe recalled Reynaldo's words to him last weekend: 'We all struggle, but sometimes you gotta be man enough to reel it in,' he'd said as he slapped Monroe's back. Well, he was man enough, all right. Monroe had been working extra hard on his routine, adhering to his schedule, and going to the meetings. He had control.

He finished himself off quickly before Renée came out of the shower. She held her towel around her tightly as she walked toward her dresser.

Monroe stood, walking past her as he headed to the bathroom. "I think I'm gonna take a shower anyway," he said, hiding the cum stain on his boxers. "You think you'll be able to get back to sleep okay?"

"Oh, yeah," she replied absently, pulling out a sexy nightie. "I'll be fine."

"Good." He nodded. "Get some rest. We're gonna do some Pilates first thing tomorrow morning. You know, get the body ready for the day." He needed to continue his routine more than anything. He was in control, but he wasn't infallible.

"Sure. Sounds great." Her smile was a bit big, and he could hear her lightly groan as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

"Pleaser," he said to himself as he turned on the hot water. "Such a pleaser."

* * *

A/N: Hey all! So been working on Story #4, but I'm getting a swift kick of writer's block. I'd been working on Monroe POV chapters after finishing story #3, so I moved over to this until I can get back to Story #4.

Thanks for reading, hope you like it. I may have one more of these, so stay tuned!

Counting down the days until October 25th! Season 3, here we come!


	3. After the Zaubertrank was Dispelled

A/N: This is an addendum to Chapter 117 of my third story in the Sweaters Series: **_If You Want to Destroy My Sweater._**

For it to make sense, don't read this until **after** you've read Chapter 117! There are a few small spoilers, so if you want to remain completely spoil-free, don't read this until after you finish the book! (It's only 3 more chapters.)

This is a third-person narrative, from Monroe's POV.

* * *

**After the Zaubertrank was Dispelled: Monroe's Story****  
****(Addendum to Chapter 117 of _If You want to Destroy My Sweater)_**

Monroe pulled out the wooden chair beside the weapon's cabinet. He sat across from Nick at the desk, giving a sideways glance to the trailer bed in disdain. His eyes fixated on the spot where he'd caught Nick and Renée together, the scene replayed in his mind and the anger resurfaced.

"Man, are you okay?" He turned his head toward Nick, who quirked an eyebrow as he locked eyes with the weary Blutbad. Monroe stared back with a fierce, red glare. "So you said you wanted to... talk?" Nick crossed his arms defensively.

The last time Monroe had slept was the nap he'd taken at Rosalee's Spice Shop while they searched for an antidote for Hank. After hanging up with Renée last night, he'd called Reynaldo for a one-on-one, which wasn't as much help as he'd hoped. His friend was confused with the situation, since Monroe couldn't really tell him everything without giving away what Renée was, but he had to hand it to Reynaldo for trying. The dude had listened to Monroe until the sun came up, and with a heavy head, he'd gone home, still pent up with a ton of things on his mind.

Monroe had cleaned some of the house, worked on a few clocks, and when that didn't help, he'd gone out, ending up at his favorite book store. He'd taken Renée there back in February, and the memories of that day rushed through him as he stormed out. He needed to find someplace he could be free of her for a while.

The rest of the day was spent at a farmer's market far across town and then at an antique store where he'd befriended the owner, talking shop. Monroe did some free maintenance on a few clocks the guy had in the store and offered him a fair price on any work he might need in the future. Work kept him busy, and when he was busy he didn't think of her… It hurt too much to think of her right now.

That night, after sitting at a bar for a couple of hours, kicking back quite a few too many glasses of whisky while the music drove him mad, Monroe decided he needed to get it over with and confront the Grimm.

"Yeah, I got some things to say," Monroe replied after a moment. The wolf didn't want to talk. The wolf wanted to finish the fight they'd started in the trailer the other night. But Monroe reminded himself that wouldn't solve anything. Killing Nick didn't make it go away, nor did it really fix anything either. Talking was what fixed things, and with Nick he could talk freely.

"All right, Monroe," Nick said when Monroe hadn't followed that with anything. "I'm listening."

Monroe's eyes settled back to brown. "Okay, dude." He placed both hands on his knees. "I know this isn't your fault, I get that, but..."

"Look, I know," Nick cut in as Monroe stifled a groan. So much for listening. "This whole thing was crazy. If I'd known it was a Zaubertrank I would've tried to have done something sooner. But I didn't know, and I'm sure Renée didn't know or she would've done something, too."

Monroe growled a bit at Nick's mention of her name. He couldn't help it. His instincts were still on fire, wanting to take revenge on this dude for doing anything with his mate. He cleared his throat instead. "I get that you guys didn't know. But, man, going behind my back… That was low even for someone who was Zaubertranked."

"You don't understand what it does to you, Monroe," Nick countered. "I couldn't control it. So, yeah, we went behind your back and Juliette's, too, but most of the time we were debating why we felt the way we did. Renée felt guilty through a majority of it, and I know it was upsetting her. It took a lot to lie to my girlfriend each time, too. Neither one of us wanted to hurt anyone."

"She can't come back here," Monroe said flatly as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Now come on, Monroe." Nick shook his head. "You can't decide something like that."

"Sure I can." He growled as he stood. "I can't handle her and you, like, being in here… together." He shook himself as his red eyes landed on the trailer bed once more.

"The only reason this happened was because of Adalind. I don't see Renée as anything but a friend. I promise this kinda thing won't be happening again." He gestured his hand across the desk. Monroe tried not to imagine him and Renée there, too. "Have you talked to her since the antidote?" Nick asked.

"She called me when she got home last night." Monroe shook his head. "But we didn't really talk much."

"Why not?"

"Dude, I dunno. I mean, I just couldn't…" He stumbled on his words. "I love her, you know that. But between this thing and, you know, her running off to go defend you... Man, that one, like, really hit me right here." He held a fist to his chest as he paced a bit. Maybe he should've brought over some beer for a talk like this. "I mean, the other stuff, you know, once she knew it was a Zaubertrank, I could tell she was, you know, like, trying to fend off the mojo. But then she tells me she's going to the bathroom at Hank's, and the next thing I know she's calling Rosalee and asking her to keep me calm so she can go all Grimm. Dude. Rosalee. I mean, she didn't even have the decency to call me herself. That had _nothing_ to do with a Zaubertrank, man. And then to top it off," he laughed sarcastically as he motioned toward Nick, "you two are doing God knows what out in the woods for your victory party of de-hexing the Hexenbiest." He growled again.

"We stopped ourselves before anything big happened," Nick reminded him. "If you want to blame someone, blame Adalind. What Renée did has nothing to do with how she feels about you." He ran a hand through his bangs. "So, just go tell her how you feel and everything will be fine."

"Well, maybe I don't know how I feel anymore." That wasn't true. He knew how he felt; hurt, betrayed, and definitely angry. Angry that he loved her, despite everything. Angry that after all they'd gone through, she still didn't trust him. Angry that his emotions were all over the place. And now he was angry at himself for coming back to the trailer. Maybe he wasn't ready to share his feelings like he thought he was.

"She needs you," Nick said, snapping him from his thoughts.

"She needs something, all right," Monroe scoffed out. "She's gonna get herself injured, or killed, or something, and, man, if I can't stop her from running off to save your ass, then how am I gonna stop her when the next thing comes for her? I mean, her dad was warning her about the Verrat in that letter, man. They don't mess around. Reapers were bad enough." He sighed as he slumped back into the chair, holding his head. He should've had more whisky.

"With the things she's shared with me, she's not gonna hide out." Nick shrugged. "Don't you think it's better to be there for her?"

"I just need to take some time and get my head on straight." Monroe dug as his hair as he stood again. "Man, this whole thing has had me wound tighter than a three day clock, which, by the way, is pretty tight."

"What about us?" Nick asked, mimicking Monroe and standing. "So, are we good?"

Monroe shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, man, we're good." The wolf objected to the statement, but he had to control the urge to rip him to shreds. Like it or not, the Grimm was right. The Hexenbiest caused this. It was her he really wanted to rip to shreds.

Nick breathed out in relief. "If you can forgive me, then you can forgive her."

"It's not that easy. It's just…"

Monroe's cell rang, halting the rest of his sentence. He pulled the phone from his pocket and sighed. Renée was calling him. It was like she knew. He silenced the ringer and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

Nick crossed his arms. "That was Renée, wasn't it?"

Monroe nodded slowly. "I can't talk to her like this."

Nick's phone buzzed on the desk as he turned. "Well, I'd bet that's her, too." He picked up the phone, looking at the display with a nod. "I'm answering it."

Monroe's pressed his lips. "Well, maybe that's not a…" A heat of rage ran though his bloodstream as Nick answered the phone before he could finish his sentence. Why was she calling him anyway?

"Uh, hi," said Nick as he sat on the edge of the trailer bed. Monroe listened to Renée on the other end. Just her voice alone brought on palpations in his chest. She was at his house, and she was worried about him. "He's fine," Nick continued, looking up at Monroe. "He's with me… Yeah, we're just talking things out."

Monroe listened again. She wanted to come to the trailer. Monroe waved his hands adamantly in Nick's direction, mouthing, "No."

Nick sighed. "Now's not a good time, but you don't have to worry." Nick kept watch of Monroe and added, "He's fine, and we're good."

As Monroe listened, he paced while Renée asked to talk to him. There was desperation in her voice. He almost took the phone from Nick, but held back.

"Renée, it's just not a good time right now," Nick replied a bit more adamantly. "Just trust me on this one."

Monroe's heart pounded. Maybe he should just talk to her. But no, the anger and the resentment were still there. He'd just say something he'd regret.

"Fine, okay," Renée told Nick. "As long as he's safe then that's fine." Monroe knew that she was nowhere near fine.

"Like I said, he's fine and… Hello?" Nick looked at the phone. "Okay, well, apparently she hung up." He looked at Monroe fully as he shoved his phone in his pocket. "So, what are you gonna do?"

"Pilates, Bikram, and helluva lot of thinking," Monroe replied steadfastly as he plopped back down in the chair.

"She's at your house," said Nick. "She wants to talk to you."

Monroe nodded. He'd heard every word. "You remember when you asked me if I still loved Angelina?"

"Yeah," Nick replied hesitantly.

"Well, there was a time I thought I was, you know, falling in love with her… You know, until the lies she told me outweighed the truths. When I caught her in a big one, I told her I was done. She wanted to talk, too. Wanted to tell me how sorry she was…" His hand gripped the back of his neck. "I can't relive another house of lies, man."

"No offense, but I really wouldn't compare the two of them."

"Lies are lies, Nick." He gestured his hands out wide. "It doesn't matter who's telling them, dude."

Nick stood and walked toward his desk. "When I go home to Juliette each night, she asks me to share my day with her. Most of the time it's a lot of lies with the truth mixed in." He leaned against the edge of the desk. "I lie to my boss, my partner, and the rest of the force. I lie on my reports. I've been doing this thing less than a year, and lying has become a big part of it. Now, I can't speak for Renée, but she's had to lie about who she is all her life. You said she even lies to her best friend, right? To protect her? Maybe she's just trying to protect you, too."

"Protect herself is more like it." Monroe scoffed loudly, but then softened his tone. "Or maybe she's just too reckless for her own good."

"Maybe it's both?" He smirked. "Either way she loves you, and that has to mean something." Nick bit at his lip. "She told me she loves you, Monroe."

Monroe swallowed hard. "She told you that, huh?"

He nodded swiftly. "She asked me not to say anything, but maybe that secret needs to be out. No matter how much a woman hurts you, a love that deep doesn't just go away." Nick looked down a moment, sighing.

"Man, you know what we talked about," said Monroe. "Just 'cause Juliette doesn't want to marry you right now doesn't mean…"

"Yeah, I know," Nick cut in, "but I know how she feels… keeping things hidden from someone you love. And it's all this that's preventing the love of my life from marrying me." He motioned toward his journals. "It's not something I want to do, but it's who I am, and I feel the need to protect her from it, even if that means we have secrets."

"Man, but Renée knows that I'm in-the-know. We don't need to have secrets. It's like… Well, it's like us." He gestured toward Nick. "We tell each other everyth-" Monroe paused, reaching for his chin. "Okay, well, I didn't know about the key. Are you gonna tell me what that's all about, by the way?"

"Maybe some other time, Monroe. But, you're right. I can't tell you everything, either. So, just because you know about all this doesn't mean Renée isn't still trying to protect you, too."

Monroe let out a huff. "She knows that I'm gonna stop her is why she does it."

"Then you gotta show her that you're there to help her… since we both know she doesn't plan on stopping." He grinned. "If you want her to trust you, you gotta trust her, too."

"So, when Juliette knows, are you gonna stop her when she wants to get involved, or, you know, when she thinks it's too risky and tells you to stay home?"

Nick sat back down behind the desk. "Yeah, well, how about we cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Sure, it's easy to tell me what to do, but when the shoe is on the other foot…" Monroe let out a sardonic chuckle as he trailed off. "You know, sooner or later you're gonna have to open that can of worms, and frankly I don't think it's gonna be anything like what you think it's gonna be when ya do."

"Let's save your relationship first, and we'll worry about mine later." Nick pointed at him. "You like Shakespeare, right?"

"Yeah." Monroe narrowed his brows. The last Shakespeare conversation they'd had didn't go so well. "Why?"

"Well, one the downfalls of the Zaubertrank was that I started reading Shakespeare because Renée liked it." Nick rolled his eyes.

Monroe shook his head, ignoring the obvious mention of that damn Zaubertrank again. "And…?" Did Nick think that learning something was a downfall? He bit his tongue before he said anything rude.

"So, while I was reading," Nick went on, "I ran across a sonnet of his that might help you. It talks about loving someone no matter what the odds. Well, after I used Google to translate it, that's what it told me," he added sheepishly. "I think it's… one-sixteen." He tapped his temple. "Yeah. That's the one. Look it up." He flashed Monroe a wide smile. "I'll give _you_ some book facts for once."

Monroe laughed in spite of himself. "What? The grasshopper is teaching the master, huh?"

"Yeah, right. You're the master." Nick gave him a dismissive gesture as he stood. "It's late, and I need to get home. I promised Juliette I'd only be working for an hour, and I'm already past that."

"Working?" Monroe smirked.

"More lies. What can I say?"

"Yeah, I should probably get home, too." Monroe yawned as he lifted himself from the chair. "Got an early morning ahead of me."

Nick walked toward him. "So, you and I…?"

"Yeah, yeah. We're good. So, did Hank or your sergeant say anything else about what happened yesterday? Or can you not share that either?"

"Sergeant Wu isn't sure what happened," Nick replied, overlooking Monroe's snide comment. "He vaguely remembers me and everyone else in his apartment, but then he thinks he hallucinated a lot of it." Nick grinned. "Hank thinks he was roofied. Wouldn't tell me much else except that he and Adalind are over, and he can't reach her."

"Well, good. Maybe she left town?"

Nick shook his head. "I don't know. But…" He looked up at Monroe. "It doesn't matter." He reached for Monroe's shoulder, nudging him toward the exit. "We'll talk more about it later."

"Yeah, man." Monroe opened the trailer door. "I'm sure we will." He paused then added, "If Renée stops by, don't mention what we talked about, okay?"

Nick gave him a knowing grin. "I won't say a word about it."

Monroe hovered at the door. "She can still come over… I mean… just to work on the books, though."

"That's all I'd want to do if she came here," Nick replied. "Believe me."

"Just don't, like, sit on the trailer bed." He grimaced as his eyes flared red. "Not together."

"Got it. No bed. Good night, Monroe."

"Night." Monroe stiffly nodded and headed to his VW as Nick shut the trailer door.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

As his VW slowly crept onto Hamilton Street, Monroe rolled down the windows and listened. He took a few whiffs when he didn't hear anything. Renée wasn't around. As he drove closer, he didn't see her car anywhere. She must have gone home. While part of him was relieved, the other part wanted his mate there with him tonight. He sighed as he pulled into his driveway and made his way inside.

He still had some cleaning to do. After finding Renée and Nick together, he'd torn the place apart in a fit of rage. The house had looked worse than when Nick and his fellow cops had turned the place over in search of the kidnapped little girl. He glanced down at one of his destroyed cuckoos he'd swept off to the side last night. Damn, that one was irreplaceable. He picked up the pieces and sat them on his workroom table. Maybe he could rebuild it, or he could use it for parts.

It took an hour, but he'd managed to finish putting his home back in order. There were a couple of lamps he'd thrown out, but he could purchase new ones tomorrow. A vase that had belonged to his nana was shattered to pieces, which he felt bad about. His mom would chew him out if she ever found out about it.

"Nana, you gotta forgive me." He looked up at the sky as he held the remnants in a garbage bag. "You had a bad temper too, you know? So, just know it wasn't on purpose, I swear."

Surprisingly, the rest of the house had come out unscathed. He put away a few more books that had made it under the couch. Ironically, one of them was his Shakespeare's book of sonnets.

Monroe chuckled as he held the black book in his hands. With a shrug he flipped the pages until he landed on sonnet one-sixteen.

"_Let me not to the marriage of true minds__  
__Admit impediments. Love is not love__  
__Which alters when it alteration finds,__  
__Or bends with the remover to remove:__  
__O no! it is an ever-fixed mark__  
__That looks on tempests and is never shaken;__  
__It is the star to every wandering bark,__  
__Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.__  
__Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks__  
__Within his bending sickle's compass come:__  
__Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,__  
__But bears it out even to the edge of doom.__  
__If this be error and upon me proved,__  
__I never writ, nor no man ever loved."_

"Well, whad'ya know." Monroe chuckled softly. "Nick actually gave me something useful after all."

He looked over the words again, trying not to smirk that this sonnet was meant for two people who were considering marriage. Maybe Nick hadn't caught on to that. Regardless, Shakespeare made a good point… that dude knew better than most. Monroe loved Renée more than anyone he'd ever been with. That love was ever-fixed like a lighthouse in a storm, or like the North Star up above. No matter what, the love he had for her was embedded in his heart, despite their obvious differences, or the Zaubertrank, or even that she'd lied to him. The lying still hurt, but he hadn't been all that truthful lately, either. They could talk it out, figure it out. Their ships would collide again, and maybe he'd get permission to come aboard and they'd sail as one… well, perhaps someday. Monroe smiled. He was just as poetic as Shakespeare. He shook his tired head. Nah, he just hadn't slept in two days and was slightly buzzed from the alcohol. Thankfully Renée wasn't here, listening to him go on like a blathering idiot.

He closed the book and slid it back on the shelf. Debating with his thoughts, he sat on the couch. He could go over to her house tonight. Maybe he should? No, it was still too soon. Before Monroe could do any colliding, he needed a few days to clear his head. When he saw Renée again, there couldn't be any lingering anger pumping through his veins. A hearty dose of his routine and some calming teas would cure what ailed him. It had to be done right.

Just thinking about the upcoming time apart ripped at him. Even his wolf wanted to howl in protest. But this cleanse would center him, and then he'd be able to say everything with clarity. He wanted to tell her so many things, but above all else, he still had to tell her he loved her. Those words needed to be the first things out of his mouth. But how? He'd tried picnics at night, art museums, and waterfalls. His romantic repertoire was tapped the hell out.

He glanced over at his cello as his face brightened. He still had an ace up his sleeve, but he'd have to practice… a lot. Another yawn escaped him, so he headed upstairs. Right now he needed a good night's sleep, and tonight he'd be able to do it peacefully.

* * *

A/N: Okay! A little Monroe/Nick dialogue from the aftermath of the Zaubertrank. A little less creepy Monroe inner thoughts, haha!

So, I think that's all the Monroe POV's I'm gonna do on this story. Hopefully this gives a better insight into Monroe's mind on a few things. So, he wasn't being mean when he avoided her for a few days. It was necessary.

As I write story #4, I'm getting stuck due the first-person POV. There's quite a bit of important things that are happening away from what Renée can see, so I'm tempted to alternate between first-person and third-person within the story. What do you guys think? I'm torn, since I wanna stay true to my first-person format, (since the last three stories have been that way) but I don't want to lose a big part of the action because our protagonist can't see what's going on to "tell" you. I'll leave it up to you, dear readers. If I sway from true first-person, will that feel weird?

Thanks for your input and thanks as always for reading! (:

Stay tuned for more Monroe and Renée in Story #4: **_Sweaters are Better to Love you With. _**(Coming out before Grimm Season 3 starts, *hopefully*!)


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